Daimones

Unexpected Expectations

Later that evening, all discussions revolved around what we had discovered that afternoon. We weren’t alone anymore. Other people had survived. If someone was in Geneva, maybe more were alive in other locations, too. Maybe not so far either, just not as many as to make interactions and encounters easy and probable.

In the next days, we scanned the horizon more intensely, and frequently compared all the notes Mary and Annah had written down previously. Had anything changed? Were there more visible lights at night? Were there any houses with lit windows? Nothing. For what we could see from our home, everything was as dead as ever. I was tempted to put something visible from afar on the roof. Anything that would grab the attention, like a flag or a banner. At the same time, I was scared. Yes, in a deserted world where everyone around us had been killed, I was afraid to face other people and of what they were capable of. Paranoids do survive.

I didn’t visit the nearby mall daily, and we had to presume it was probably the same with “the survivor” in town, as we now referred to the person who'd looted the drugstore and the department store in Eaux Vives. Were we ready to meet other people now, whoever they turned out to be? Those doubts came to me almost unconsciously. I was as surprised as Mary and Annah when I shared them.

“You don’t want to?” Mary frowned.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” I was afraid of the change.

We had just started to regain some normalcy in our lives. Things to do, things to focus on and hope for. Hope is a good feeling in itself. What if our hopes, about not being the only ones left on the planet, turned out to be ill-fated? Humans proved to be the most dangerous species of all in every century, most efficiently toward each other. The various “what if” implications worried me.

The Facebook ads campaign was now a multi-million page affair and still we had no results. Maybe survivors were not that common. Maybe at the mall it was just a girl, a woman, and that is all there was. Yet maybe she was not alone...maybe there were other people with her: Men. Violent? Desperate? Aggressive?

We had done a lot at home, and we were well organized. We were an enviable target for people looking for quick and easy gains. The world was full of con artists, swindlers ready to exploit our confidence and take advantage of us if we were naive. With no risks of facing any consequences, even murder could be a possible solution to ruthless people in our new world. I felt as if I had just found a stable base for us, and everything was collapsing again with unknown consequences.

Wait a second. This is exactly why we trained, to face dire situations should they come. Annah knew how to shoot, and Mary did, too. She'd managed to handle and fire the Glock just fine, hadn’t she? Yes, but against fixed targets, and maybe just to please me. It wasn’t going to be the same to shoot at another person. And the one who hesitates usually ends up horizontal. How would they react in front of a dangerous and menacing person? Would they hesitate?

I was torn, and the tension in the muscles around my neck hurt. ‘Do you think there will be others of my age?’ Annah had asked. It was the first thing she hoped for and thought of at the store. Did I have the right to shut the door on that possibility? Did I have the right to protect my family so much as to become the cause of their ultimate loss?

Mary and I had an agitated conversation, especially after we managed to kiss Annah goodnight. Our daughter made me promise I would find whoever had been at the mall. “You promise, Dad?” It hurt inside and gave me troubles at night.

“Dan, if there’s even the slightest hope that Annah won’t live her life waiting for us to die…” She did not finish the phrase. She started to cry softly, and I didn’t know whether she cried for us or for Annah. She looked straight at me. “Why do you hesitate?”

I snapped. “I’m scared, Mary. That’s why. I am scared…”

I hadn’t gone nuts, but I felt we were walking a very fine line. What I had managed to do so far would not be the solution of a lifetime. I knew it.

I remembered Albert Einstein once said, "We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking, if mankind is to survive," and I thought his words were perfectly applicable to our situation. I knew I had to find out who was out there. Was I adopting a new manner of thinking? Would it allow us to survive or ruin us?

An email from anyone alive in some distant location, unable to reach us, posed me no problem at all. It was safe knowledge that others far away were struggling to survive the same way we did. Maybe we would exchange news and facts and nurture the hope that life, in some distant future, was going to be better. I was prepared for the possibility, dreamed about it even, that we'd be safe in our own bubble without external interferences.

Already, a sense of stability and safety had crept in as what we didn’t know about the rest of the world couldn’t harm us, could it? Now everything was different.

Mary had struck a chord. Why was I hesitating? Was that the vision I was preparing for Annah, for us? A life spent in a cocoon, pretending?

For no matter how safe it was at the time, things could become worse at any moment or at least more difficult to cope with. We would surely have to adjust to the loss of electricity, of Internet, running water, etc. We already had very little use of the phones. Could we ever adjust to being alone? And what about Annah?

We weren’t going to be alive forever. One day will see our demise and what would become of Annah then? Living the rest of her life completely alone? Not the fate anyone ever had, even at the dawn of civilization. It would have been cruel. I hugged Mary and hid my face in her hair:

“I’m sorry. I will find out who that was,” I whispered in Mary’s ear. “I only need to think about how and in what terms.”

***

The next morning I explained what the night had told me in its wisdom, and I faced lots of disagreement, of course. Disagreement. Who am I kidding? It was more of a fight. First, no, I was not going to show up at the mall and start to call out, nor was I going to drive around blowing the car's horn. Forget about that. And I was not going to bring them home with me either, or post notes with directions to our place and how to find us. No way. Instead, I would go alone with Taxi and wait, hide where I would have a clear view and surveyed the entrance unseen. We knew they had been there; they didn’t. I wasn’t going to change my mind and lose our advantage, not immediately at least. Possibly I would be spending the night in town, if necessary, even a few nights. Gather all possible information before making contact.

Mary shook her head a few times before her first comment. “Where do you think you are, Dan? You’re not in a combat zone.”

We had a lively breakfast that morning. I did not give up and, although the vote was two against one, the majority lost the case. No democracy to invoke. There was no case. I would not go and look for anyone in town if not under my conditions. The only thing I agreed to was to come home before dark—at least for the first days—and to be in touch constantly.

It was Sunday, the first of April, and it amused me to end my remark with, “And I’ll go on Monday. Today’s April Fool’s Day and I am not going to play that role any time soon.” That defused the tension a bit. It was a glorious day and I even managed to convince Mary, with help from Annah, to stick to our previously established plan to prepare for a picnic and hit the golf course. Annah had wanted to show Mary her progress in the game for days, and it would have been just so good to spend some time together, as a family, leaving all the bad thoughts behind. In my heart, I hoped once more nothing was about to ruin what we had managed to build.

***

The morning after, I set out at dawn for town. As agreed, I took Taxi with me, with enough food and water to see us through the day. I wanted to arrive early to choose my location well and patiently prepare for a long wait and a boring task. I remembered to take the hoodie with me, well-sealed in the plastic bag.

“Be careful,” warned Mary just before I got into the car. “And call as soon as possible. Don’t dare make me wait, mister.”

We kissed and I left. During the entire trip, I could not help but think of what events I was about to trigger and who I was going to find. But the decision had been made and I hoped it would turn out to be the right one.

I parked the car blocks away from the shopping center. Didn’t want anyone to notice a “new” vehicle suddenly appearing nearby. The town was dead, as usual. It felt so weird to walk close to walls—armed, with a trained and tense dog beside me—down the same streets only months before I had shared with fellow citizens, leisurely walking in and out of a restaurant, or going shopping. If I closed my eyes, I could see streets full of people and hear life noises, shoes and stilettos smacking the sidewalks in an excited crescendo. The vision didn’t last, as if reality suffered from a mystical Photoshop retouch that had stripped of every human presence in a click. I shivered.

Silence. Oppressive silence, if not for the birds. I glanced around for stray dogs; I remembered well the one who almost succeeded in attacking me when I filled the tank the first time at the mall near home, or the pack we had met in town only a few days before. Having Taxi with me was crucial and reassuring. Slowly, we reached the block where the mall stood.

The day before I had noticed two possible hiding places. One, the mom-and-pop restaurant facing the side of the building and the center alternate entry. I would have a clear line of sight to the car park that served the center, a bit down the sidewalk below, though the high street leading to the entrance to the grocery level remained out of sight. The other was a photographer’s shop at the corner of another building, in front of the mall. From its window, I would have an unobstructed view of the entry and the streets at the crossing but only a partial of the car park entry.

Even after considering the pros and cons of both nothing pointed to one location besting the other. I would have been well hidden in either. I opted for the photographer shop. I reasoned I would hear any approaching car with ease in the deadly silence Geneva had plunged into; it would be better to be in front of the main entrance.

The photographer's shop also had another advantage: an old wood-framed French door. With the help of my hunting knife and my 200-plus pounds, I could manage to open the door easily. Yet, it took longer than I believed it would. A crowbar would be useful for future break-ins.

Once in, I inspected the place: empty picture frames on shelves, large photographs of old Geneva for sale, some portraits of past patrons, a small rear room with lamps and spotlights, and a chair against a light background where the photographer took pictures of his customers. The front windows were loaded with other decorations such as more pictures, large and framed old posters, fake plants and branches, and ornamental veils. They provided good cover.

I put down two bowls I brought with me for Taxi, one with water and another with some dry food. Taxi was the most critical asset I had besides the Glocks and the Benelli shotgun.

I set myself up for a long wait on the chair I took from the other room then I called home. Just to say I was settled and all was fine. I would get in touch again later and not to worry too much; Taxi was with me and we were out of view.

“Don’t call me back, Mary. It might happen at a wrong moment.”

“Don’t play the hero, sweet pea.”

Oh Mary, all her tenderness and ever-youthful love encased in those two little words, repeating themselves through the years like ripples in our pond of shared emotions. “It’s not Fool’s Day anymore,” I tried to joke. “I love you.” I hung up.

And so the morning passed. Taxi at my feet, half asleep, and I busy with constantly looking out the window.

Pigeons were coming and going. Was it only my imagination or were there many more of them around than before? Time oozed away, flowing like lava erupting lazily from a vent, slowly and impossible to stop, covering everything into oblivion under its dark layer of things that were and will never be again. And I had only to wait for the flow to reach me. Still, I almost dozed off.

Taxi suddenly stood up, nervous, and startled me. He went for the front door. Adrenaline woke me up rapidly and my heartbeat accelerated. I crouched and took up a better-concealed position before even summoning a rational thought in my mind. I couldn’t see what had got Taxi worried; I couldn’t hear anything but the rumbling of my heartbeat. Then, I saw it: on the other sidewalk, a dog strolled down the street. Taxi moaned. Shit.

“Sshhhhh. Sshhhh.” I reached and put my hand around his muzzle. “Quiet, Taxi.”

Outside, the dog paused and sniffed the air briefly, raising its nose at each scent, then resumed its walk only to stop shortly after once again. It obviously had detected something, but did not look too interested or worried. I kept Taxi down and quiet. After a short while, the stray dog decided whatever it sensed was not his direct business and strolled away, turned left at the corner and wandered out of sight. That was close. This wasn’t the time to engage into another canine dominance episode.

Apart from the birds, the dog was the only sign of life in town that day. In the afternoon, a pigeon—or was it a dove?—and a crow chased each other in mid-air for a while. A crow can really produce strident calls in an empty town. The chase marked even more how deeply silent Geneva had become and turned the scene into a surreal canyon of concrete and steel.

I called Mary again, this time to tell her I was coming home. Nothing had happened. I saw no one, heard no one. At home, Annah had her school lessons with Mary. After lunch, they'd enjoyed the garden with Tarantula and then went for the usual walk with her. I protested, mildly; if anything happened, I could not help them in any way.

Mary sounded a bit hurt by my remark. “Of course we’ve been careful. You shouldn’t worry for us. Besides, it’s your fault. Why did you make me and Annah spend so much time shooting, otherwise? We’re able to defend ourselves. We don’t need to stay home each time you’re away.”

“I’m sorry. I know you are.” Indeed, I knew she had been careful and was fully capable of caring for herself and Annah, too. That was not the problem; I had to adjust also to this change.

“Come home in one piece and don’t be late now. Don’t make us come and look for you.” Luckily, Mary had found her cheerful mood again.

I smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Not to worry.”

They were definitely not the same persons of a couple months before so I needed to start having a different perspective. I had told them exactly that. They had to learn to count on themselves. I could not be there all the time, every time, and it seemed I had reached my goal. With a pinch of regret, I was less indispensable. And it was good.

Before leaving the shop, I checked every visible area from there with the binoculars, one more time. Nothing. “C’mon, boy, time to go home. Our ladies are waiting, and are a bit nervous.”

We left and returned to the car as swiftly as possible. Taxi stopped to empty his bladder against a tree, and I did the same; both of us marking territory. Crows started to gather on trees for the evening to come. I didn’t remember having ever seen so many in one place before. Flying high, a hawk screeched.

Nature would not take long to reclaim Geneva. In a few years, things will deteriorate fast. Repeated cycles of freezing and warming will widen cracks between slabs of sidewalks, pipes will explode, and pavement separate and split with even more cracks. Weeds will be poking from the asphalt and building walls, and lichen seeds will sprout.

Fires will occur, maybe set by lightning to a wooden roof in the old town and move on to burn other buildings. Wild vegetation will cover streets and squares; the city sewage system will collapse and rainwater will collect into puddles. Small flows from the higher districts to the lowest will appear and reach the lake. Cities will soon be a tough and harsh place to live or spend time.

For a moment, buildings became walls of stone; the streets, chasms and fissures in the earth; ravines and boulders, a crib for humanity. With all these images lingering in my mind, I put Taxi in the back seat and drove home.

***

When I arrived, I moved the UPS truck, opened the gate, got the car in, parked the truck back in place again and closed the gate. Tedious and cumbersome, but safe. There was not much to tell Mary and Annah but that the wait had been long, and Taxi had warned me of the presence of a dog that I wouldn’t have heard or noticed if it were not for him. I did not feel the need to come back to the small discussion we had over the phone about venturing out without me. Chapter closed. We were reaching a substantial new way of being ourselves.

“How was it, Dad?” Annah wanted to know.

“The dog? Just a dog, sweetie. Can’t say the breed but it was black.” She raised her shoulders, and lost all interest.

We had dinner as usual and the day was then officially over. We stayed together on the couch, in front of the fireplace, reading books. Pretending, needing to spend time together as if nothing had changed. Without Skype, and unable to chat with friends over the iPhone, Annah had discovered the pleasure of reading, and Mary was extremely happy she had.

We encouraged Annah to read everything and discuss the story, the plot and its meaning afterward. It became part of her education program, too. That evening Annah was reading “Pride and Prejudice,” by Jane Austen and its issues of manners, upbringing, morality, education, and marriage in the society of early 19th-century England. The part Annah still didn’t like to do, however, was producing the book report after each reading.

The next day, and the following for that matter, went similarly without much change or difference in the way I spent time. I got installed in the photographer shop early in the morning. The front door was as I had left it and, although the lock was broken, it still held the door firmly. The dog we had seen on Monday was nowhere around.

On one of the following days, I decided to fulfill my desire and indulge myself: I visited Davidoff on my way to my observation post. I silenced the alarm once in, looked for and chose the largest humidor they had on display and, lo and behold, the cigar room was perfect as if nothing had ever occurred. The thought echoed repeatedly, and I could not chase it away: ‘as if nothing had ever occurred.’

The world had all its reasons not to miss humanity much. Could it be that I was becoming accustomed to it, or even enjoying the…freedom? I shivered entering the humidity-controlled room and I wasn’t sure it was due only to the change in temperature.

The room was small, with a square central counter. All around were shelves full of cigars, cigars and more cigars, from floor to ceiling. I always marveled at that view. The Davidoff brand reigned, of course, with its “Chateaux” and “Mille” series. The Cohiba, whose founder started rolling Cuban President Fidel Castro's own private cigars, were popular, too. There also were cigars from Arturo Fuente, Augusto Reyes, Camacho, Cubita and many others that I had never heard of, all of them in alphabetical order.

I spent time in the room to look and read every single brand, kind, and cut on each box of cigars. I’d never had the occasion to do that before. Before, I didn’t want to show the clerk that, in reality, I knew very little about the world of cigars.

I filled my new humidor with Cohiba’s Esplendidos and, for good measure, I took two more sealed boxes of them. I left the place happy, knowing that I could come back whenever I wanted. Maybe that's the way billionaires feel about the world: never asking the price, knowing you can have as many as you want of everything, anytime, for how often you feel like it without ever thinking of the cost.

On Friday, I called it off. I was tired of spending my days that way, waiting. Besides, it was Good Friday. Together, we declared it was a long weekend. That Sunday was Easter. We would make some cakes to celebrate. This Easter was going to have a special meaning for us all. It celebrated Christ's resurrection, but we attached significance for us as well: our resurrection, our own struggle in order to achieve that.

On Saturday evening, we noticed some previously lit areas in the distance were no longer. Annah noticed the difference first and rushed to warn us. Although just a small spot on our visible horizon, it had gone dark.

Had the degradation started? Most probably it was something minor like a blown bulbs or street lamps no longer receiving power. Anyway, I wouldn’t go there just to check for the causes. It would have been another story if the opposite had happened: some new visible lights in previously dark areas. Then it would have been way different. So far, I believed we had been lucky thanks to the good season we'd had. When winter came, no doubt degradation would start for real.